


I know, I can treat you better

by katreine



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katreine/pseuds/katreine
Summary: A shout of “Fire!” won’t wake Greg up, but continuous texts from Rebecca will.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! This fic was supposed to be set in my I thought I'd stay verse, but it could also be taken as a future interaction between Gregbecca in season 2. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave feedback!
> 
> (Yes, this was inspired by the Shawn Mendes song)

A shout of “Fire!” won’t wake him up, but continuous chimes of notifications on his phone will.

**Rebecca, 3:28 AM**

Are you home?

**Rebecca, 3:29 AM**

You home?

**Rebecca, 3:30 AM**

Greg?

**Rebecca, 3:33 AM**

I need you.

The last message blinks at him, a seeming alarm to wake him up even further, and he finds himself grabbing his phone and sitting up on his bed. His fingers work on automaticity, sending the text that he knows Rebecca will respond to within a minute of reading it. Maybe less.

**Greg, 3:38 AM**

I’m up

He hears another ping from his phone, and he rubs his eyes, groggy from sleep. A simple okay from Rebecca, and then another text, and he shakes off the sleep from his limbs. He hopes Rebecca isn’t up for anything physical—the thought of it drives him to think in two different ways, and he scolds himself—because he doubts he’ll be able to, uh, _perform_ well.

Or so he thinks.

Five rapid raps on his door drives Greg to pause before he opens the door, and yawns. He gives his body another shake and turns the doorknob, and pauses in surprise at the sight in front of his door.

It’s Rebecca, eyes puffy and red, hair sticking up on one side and lips quivering. Her phone is in one hand, and nothing else.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, and opens the door wider to let her in, but she completely catches him off guard as she raps her arms around him. 

Greg doesn’t know whether to move or hug her back, but experience with hugging Rebecca dictates he do the latter. So he does.

A sniffle against his college shirt makes Greg wonder who or what’ve upset Rebecca to the point where she’d drive to his apartment and cry in his arms. Another thought pops up: how come Josh Chan isn’t the one holding her in his arms?

He’s not the boyfriend. Greg thinks, but as he rubs his hands over Rebecca and closes the door silently, he finds that Chan would have to fight him in order to take Rebecca. The way she feels in his arms is blissful—her soft curves contrasting against the hard planes of her body—and while Greg knows there’s nothing sexual or romantic about their embrace, he can’t help but feel that what happened must have had taken place for him to hold her in his arms.

“Hey there, Bunch. What’s up?” He asks in the softest voice he could muster, and she answers back with two sniffles. He manages to turn on the nearest light switch he could and succeeds to not bump the two of them against a wall, and awkwardly manages to sit them down near the edge of his bed, all rumpled and messy.

“What’s up, Rebecca?”  
“It’s nothing,” she says, almost inaudible, and so unlike the girl Greg knows and loves.

Correction: _loved._

“I don’t know much, but I do know that when a girl is crying, it’s hardly nothing.” Rebecca doesn’t answer, but Greg sees the tears stop, and he goes on. “Is this one of those times when they ran out of frozen cheeseburger pizzas at the superstore?” She shakes her head, and he continues on. “Or maybe they’re out of the brand of cheesecake you like at the deli. Or, or, you didn’t get to watch that Sandra Bullock film you like. Is it any of those things?”

“No.” It’s a quiet sound, almost passive, and Greg is forlorn, looking at this girl with the radiant energy, all broken down over something, or by someone.

“Did your mom call you tonight?” Another shake of the head.

“Did you and Paula fight?” He asks softly, and he gets rewarded with an answer that’s not monosyllabic.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it? At least tell me,” he pleads, and Rebecca sighs. She lifts her blue eyes to meet his, and the sadness in it sparks the realisation in his head.

“Is it Chan?” He asks in a curt tone, and Rebecca nods, just once. Greg stands up, and he has the most intense urge to find his friend and sock him in the jaw. Twice.

A slight tug on his wrist finds him back to reality, and he looks down at Rebecca, her lips in a pout, her eyes pleading. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, Greg—“

He kneels down to look at her eye level. “Rebecca, he must’ve done something for you to get this upset.”

“He didn’t, I promise,” she whispers, and Greg isn’t the slightest bit convinced. “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.”  
“He damn well shouldn’t,” he says vindictively, and Rebecca rolls her eyes. “I promise you, I’m fine,” she says with a sniffle, and Greg shakes his head. “How could you be fine if you’re crying?”

“I’m not crying anymore, see!” She stretches out her arms, and Greg just sighs and sits beside her.

“What did Josh do, Rebecca?” 

“It’s—“

“—it’s not nothing. Now will you please tell me the truth?”  
“Josh… Josh was texting Valencia on our date. And I know it’s such a stupid reason to be mad at him, but I wish he didn’t do that.” Greg has the strangest urge to strangle Chan’s neck with his fingers and leave his body for dead. “And when I confronted him about it, he acted… really odd. And we got into this shouting match, and I just want to forget about it,” The last few words are whispered into his shirt sleeve, and Greg loses his patience. He ought to break his neck in half. 

“Greg?” It’s a question of fear, and he stills. “Please don’t get mad at him, or me.” “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him.” he growls, and Rebecca wraps two hands around his bicep. “I can feel you tensing. Please don’t be mad, please don’t act irrationally.”

“He was texting another girl on your date, Rebecca. He’s incorrigible.”

“I know,” she whispers to his shirt sleeve, and it’s almost like a missed kiss on his bicep, light and tender.

“I need to teach him a lesson.” He stands up, grabs his phone and keys from his nightstand, but Rebecca stops him midway to the door. Her arms are secure around his middle, and he tries to pry them off, but they’re surprisingly strong. “Rebecca, I need to go.”

“Please don’t go, Greg. Please stay with me,” her words are muffled against his thin shirt, and Greg stops in his tracks. “I just need you to stay with me, please.”

And he finds himself completely helpless to go against her plea. “Of course,” He hugs her, and he wishes he could be warmer so Rebecca’s not cold anymore, that she’d stop crying, that he could punch Chan in the face without any repercussions, that he be the one to comfort Rebecca whenever something in her world falls apart.

It’s not a jarring realisation that stops him and makes him afraid, it’s a cold feeling that settles in his stomach, the lump in his throat that’s been there ever since he saw her texts. 

It makes him sad.

They lie together in his bed, Greg’s thoughts occupying half of his brain space, and half’s dedicated to Rebecca and Rebecca alone. They’re silent, the lull of the heater enough for the both of them to consider as comfortable. A little later, Rebecca loses the fight to sleep, and Greg chooses to suffer pricks and needles when he wakes up as he wraps both his arms around Rebecca. He looks down at her, the face he’s grown to love, and he sighs as the weight in his stomach settles again. One thought enters his mind, and it’s something he thinks about when they have breakfast, when he’s working at Home Base and Chan’s arm snakes around Rebecca’s waist, and when he later realises that all he is to Rebecca is a shoulder to cry on when Josh isn’t there.

“I know I can treat you better, Rebecca. Better than he can,” he whispers to the dark of the room, and he doesn’t hear any response. 

And he knows it’s true—but this is how his story is. 

 


End file.
